


Balancing on a knife’s edge

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Checks and Balances, Crimes & Criminals, Fear, Gen, Justice, the city of ankh-morpork is a machine that sometimes goes clang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: Meeting Commander Vimes unexpectedly is like hitting a damn reinforced brick wall at top speed.





	Balancing on a knife’s edge

Meeting Commander Vimes unexpectedly is like hitting a damn reinforced brick wall at top speed.

It‘s not just the dented armor and the badge clipped onto it gets you. Nor is it the permanent smell of cheap tobacco and armor polish and something that you can only describe as street smells, a mixture of mud and spices and blood.

It’s mainly the stare. It nails you to the ground and demands answers for every single thing you could ever be blamed for in your whole life.

There is something about Vimes, how his eyes linger in the shadows and watches the Patrician with the sort of intensity that would be classified as devotion if it wasn’t so terrifying, that reminds Lipwig that if Vimes is anything, he’s a watchman. A copper. A policeman.

As a default, he’s the one who catches thieves. And Lipwig has stolen many things throughout his life.

Vimes keeps an eye on people and he chases them if they do something wrong. And he belongs to the city and the law.

Above all, the law.

You plonk Vimes down anywhere else on the Disc and he will damn well drag the law there with him.

Lipwig’s seen the axe in that table and he’s caught himself tracing his neck, where the noose cut into the skin after Vimes has left the Rats’ Chamber.

It’s not the same remainder that he’s being kept in check as the look in De Worde’s eyes when he shows up at the Royal Bank with Otto in tow, or the sound of Captain Carrot’s footsteps on a crowed street. And it isn’t the terrifying blank expression on Lord Vetinari’s face when Lipwig steps out of line, worse than any threat of a second trip to visit that feeling of a noose around his neck.

No.

Vimes serves the law, and the law says that justice needs to be done and that those who commit a crime must pay for it. And he’s got a lot of people who support him and work with him who’ll join him in arresting Lipwig if he goes too far.

Vimes would make damn sure that the city would kill Lipwig dead for the second time, and permanently this time.

Moist Von Lipwig doesn’t want to know what would happen if Vimes ever decides to go after him, to hunt him down. The werewolf is a better option, at least he can scent bomb her. He can run and hide from other watchmen, even the golems. But Vimes would not stop. There is no hiding from him. Vimes patrols in sunlight and stands in the pouring rain at night, leaning against walls. Some say that he can sleep with his eyes open. Lipwig has a lot of things that he can be blamed for. And Vimes knows it. If he’d get even a sniff of something unlawful, there would be trouble.

Lipwig may be a scoundrel and a liar and a bloody conman, but he hasn’t lived this long by not knowing his own limits. Riding the wave is when he feels truly alive, but he has to make sure that the crash doesn’t get him killed.

And if he’s living on borrowed time, he’s going to make that time last as long as he can.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You'd think I'd have some chill. I do in fact, have none.


End file.
